Hell and Back
by CommanderLexaTrash
Summary: Liesl didn't remember much of anything after she awoke in a Siberian HYDRA facility. Others told her she was a HYDRA operative; her old friend, Bucky, told her she was a hero. After adjusting to life in 2016, Liesl is given the chance to live a normal life. That is, until government powers call for her to face justice for her past crimes.
1. Winter, Late 1944

**Part 1: Winter 1944**

The only thing Liesl could think when she saw his face for the first time was this—the soldier should be dead. But he wasn't.

She wasn't a doctor or a nurse, but she swept over the man's bloodied body with wet rags and a gentle touch. HYDRA scientists and medical specialists bustled around her, yammering in German and Russian about his blood pressure and breathing—steady, despite the massive fall from the train. Liesl cupped his face with her hands, but he did not react to her touch.

"I've seen him before," Zola said, his porkish face reddening with excitement. "We've tested him for strength and healing. He's an excellent candidate for the serum."

Liesl's eyes followed his voice. The other men murmured in agreement; she bit her lip, knowing that their optimism would likely kill this man.

"He'll need surgery first," she said aloud. As the only woman in the research compound, she always attracted attention whenever she spoke. "His arm needs to be amputated. Otherwise, he'll die of infection and blood loss."

"Where's the doctor?" another man said. Though many men in HYDRA were doctors, Liesl knew they were referring to her father, Emil Weber, head surgeon of HYDRA.

"Here," Emil said. He didn't bother to glove his hands before inspecting the soldier's broken arm. "We'll have to amputate at the shoulder. We should begin immediately. Liesl, please, the anesthetic."

She nodded, obeying her father. He was the only man whose orders she took; as much as she despised this cavern of evil, it was her only chance at survival—at a normal life after the war.

When she handed him the liquid, she asked, "Where's his file?"

Emil nodded to the counter behind him. As she moved away, medical staff filed around the soldier, their hands working quickly to save his life.

Liesl knew well that this would be the last time HYDRA would try to save him.

She sat in the chair next to her workstation in the adjacent room and opened the folder, thumbing through the files from the other HYDRA facility; they were meticulous in their record keeping, but Liesl was looking for one detail.

Towards the back of his file, she found it: a photo of the man in American uniform and his name—Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

* * *

Barnes survived surgery and was recovering quickly—she assumed, in part, thanks to HYDRA's earlier tampering. Though it was not her responsibility, she checked his vitals every hour and ensured he had a steady supply of pain medication. So long as no one, especially not Zola nor her father, caught her, she could ensure the soldier's comfort as well as her own (at least in her conscience).

After a few days of unconsciousness, Barnes opened his eyes and called out with a weak, gravelly voice.

"Hello?"

The sound of his voice after days of silence sent a shockwave up Liesl's spine. She bolted from her workspace into the recovery room, where Barnes weakly struggled against his restraints with his right arm, while his left nub, still covered in gauze and bandages, remained still.

"Don't move," she instructed, her German accent heavy. "You will be okay."

Barnes managed to open his eyes wide enough to look at her—his eyes narrowed in disgust at the sight of her.

"Where am I?" he demanded. "Who are you? Let me go!"

The sharp rise in his voice signaled the entrance of Zola, who smiled smugly to himself.

"Ah, Sergeant Barnes," he trilled. "Welcome back."

* * *

Sedation was the only solution to calming Barnes down. As he dozed into a medical-induced sleep, Liesl couldn't help but feel badly for him. Further research into his files showed that he was a close companion of Captain America, who undoubtedly was searching hell and high water for his friend. Liesl wished him success, but knew it was unlikely.

She had been hopeful that as her years working for HYDRA dragged on, she might grow less attached to each soldier—each patient—they experimented on. But, as her father noted, she had a soft heart.

In fact, her father was the only reason HYDRA hadn't banished her to the Siberian winter or put a bullet in her temple. Liesl had been caught on more than one occasion mercy killing patients. She always intended for their overdoses to look like accidents or medical failures, but post-mortem blood tests showed that Liesl had tampered.

Her punishment was swift and severe—she was beaten and assaulted while her father watched on with a careful eye. He never let them rape or severely injure her, but she carried the scars of these "reprogramming sessions" with her always. Liesl hadn't been reprimanded in nearly six months, which was now her longest streak. The HYDRA superiors were beginning to trust her again. But unbeknownst to them, she hadn't changed—she had just gotten better at hiding her evidence.

In fact, whenever she met a new patient, Liesl often imagined how they would die in her hands. It was a morbid thought, but it kept these men from becoming super slaves for the Third Reich; it gave them time for Captain America to liberate them.

Hope was the most potent drug of all in the HYDRA facility. Without it, Liesl would have pulled the trigger herself.

* * *

After a few days of recovery, Liesl assisted the medical staff in implementing one of HYDRA's most revered projects unto Barnes: the metal arm. The ultimate goal—the vision—was to turn Barnes into the Winter Soldier, Captain America's vicious foil; a single man with the strength and brutality of an entire army. HYDRA had been discussing the project for over a year to little success—partially her undoing. The medical staff worked diligently to attach the arm to Barnes's nervous system so that it functioned as a normal prosthetic. Barnes was unlike any other patient HYDRA had taken in; he was promising.

Liesl watched with an anxious gut as they woke Barnes from his medically-induced sleep and instructed him to move his metal arm. He clenched his fist, and the room broke out into cheers and applause. Barnes was stronger than she and they anticipated.

His willpower was too. Barnes fought—verbally and physically—during every subsequent procedure that would ensure his ultimate strength. He was sedated more often than Liesl was comfortable with, but it was the only option unless she finished her now stalled project—a memory eraser that would brainwash him into the super soldier. Liesl regretted ever thinking of the concept—it was done in a moment of weakness, of a need to impress. But it was too late to turn back now.

During the night, Barnes took to shouting his lungs raw, hopeful that someone might rescue him—or, perhaps, come put a bullet in his head. Unfortunately for him, HYDRA had other plans.

But so did Liesl.

" _Soldat,"_ she said sharply. Barnes stopped wailing and glared at her. "What do you need?"

"A way out," he quipped.

"Unlikely," she replied, approaching him slowly. "HYDRA values you. Do you need sedation? Food? Water?"

Barnes scoffed. "I won't cooperate. You might as well kill me now."

"Not unless I want to lose my life," she said casually. Her dark eyes met his blue, and an unfamiliar sensation roared in her gut.

"You prefer to live with this?" Barnes countered, "Rather than die? Coward."

His word cut her to her core, but she was determined to show that she was in charge.

"We do what we must to survive," she said simply. "Again, _soldat_. Food? Water?"

Barnes watched her carefully, as if considering whether or not she was genuine.

"Nothing," he said finally, his tone softer. "Except your name."

"Annelise," she said after a beat. "I prefer Liesl… it was my grandmother's name."

"Why not hide with her?"

"She and my mother were Jewish," Liesl explained shortly. Neither Germany nor HYDRA were happy with her heritage, but her father's reputation saved her life. Her face, though, resembled her grandmother's—thin, mousy, with thick brown curls matching her eyes, covered with equally thick lenses.

Barnes's face softened. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not. They stood up for what they believed in. I've never had a choice."

"You always do," Barnes said. He held up his human arm. "We could go, Liesl. You and me."

She scoffed. "Go where? We'd die in the cold."

"Better die there than here."

Liesl considered this for a beat. She was unsure of why she felt so attracted to this strange soldier, when nearly every other man had begged her for escape in the past. But, thankfully, the feeling was fleeting.

"I'll get you water," she said curtly. "You must be parched from the screaming."

As she turned on her heel to get a cup of water, she heard Barnes say, "Wait."

Even though she knew better, she stopped in her step.

He said, "Call me Bucky."

She nodded, though she was certain he didn't see, and then walked out of the room.


	2. Winter, Early 1945

**Part 2: Winter, Early 1945**

Over the next few weeks, Bucky was increasingly exposed to more dangerous (and painful) sessions, all with the goal of refining his fighting skills. Bucky was forced to fight other soldiers that HYDRA had experimented on until one of them could be declared winner. At first, Bucky was typically out with a swift blow to the head (as he often refused to fight despite the promise of protection and a reward), but he was soon fighting back—and harder.

Meanwhile, Liesl's nighttime visits to her favorite _soldat,_ as she called him, had only increased. Bucky reluctantly began to trust her, and they spent most of their time talking in hushed voices about their past lives. Bucky was grateful for the reprieve—to feel like a person again—and the small flame in Liesl's heart was stoked every time he smiled at her.

As time went on, it was becoming clear among the murmurs in their little corner of HYDRA—the serum was working. Perhaps not at the same strength as Captain America's, but it was nothing that a little training couldn't improve.

"The only remaining problem is his behavior," Emil explained during a meeting. Around them, the pained moans of their patients and beeps from the machines monitoring their lives filled the room. "Liesl, how is the machine coming?"

Liesl knew he was referring to her project—a mind-eraser intended to control erratic patients. Liesl had put off working on the machine once she saw its dangers, but lately, Zola and the others were clamoring for an immediate completion date. It was in those moments, as she spent long days tinkering with the mechanics, that she thought of Bucky. She often wondered if he was right—would it be better to escape and die in the Siberian winter than live here and perpetuate evil?

"It's coming," she replied simply. Some men huffed at her answer, so she clarified, "Should be done shortly."

"How much longer?" another scientist asked. "Do you need assistance?"

"Barnes would be the perfect test case for it," a third man said.

Her airway tightened. "Not yet," she said hastily. "I'm not at the testing phase."

"You must hurry, Liesl," Emil said warningly, "We may not have much more time."

"I'm aware of the pressure," she retorted.

"I can assist," the scientist insisted. "Prep Barnes. We'll make him cooperate."

Her heart tightened with nerves. Just like that, more pain was going to come speeding at Bucky like an out of control train.

With that thought solidified, the men in the room stood. Liesl obeyed a second later, just as they instinctively barked, "Hail, HYDRA!"

Her lips did not move.

* * *

Almost immediately after the meeting, the scientist descended on the brainwasher. Liesl busied herself by testing medications and variations of the serum, but she kept peeking at the man out of the corner of her eye. The truth was the machine was essentially at completion—but she loathed the thought that she had created this machine, a pathetic, desperate attempt to earn the approval of her superiors. How quickly she learned approval was not what she needed—it was survival.

After a few hours, the scientist left triumphantly. Emil entered moments later, towering over his daughter.

"Franz says the work is done," he said casually.

"Good for him," she replied, not bothering to make eye contact. "It helps to have another pair of eyes on a project."

"Enough, Liesl," he boomed, smacking her workbook out of her vision. "You need to stop protecting the soldier. Zola and the others… they are suspicious."

Her heart skipped a beat, but she maintained her neutral tone. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You do," Emil insisted, "And if you don't keep your distance, the consequences will be bigger than you can handle."

"They'll eliminate me?" she asked as casually as if they were discussing lunch plans.

"I have stuck my neck out for you too many times," Emil replied simply. "If you have persuasion, tell him to cooperate… it will be easier for him and for you."

His tone indicated a threat. Liesl met his stern eyes. "I cannot make him do anything because I have no power over him."

"If you are not loyal," Emil warned, "You will pay the price."

* * *

That night, Bucky lost his temper after a round of forced fighting. His anger was to be expected, and the medical team usually solved the problem by sedating him. Tonight, though, they tested the brainwashing machine for the first time. The sounds of electricity flowing through his head mixed with his agonized screams so potently that Liesl sought refuge in an operating room on the other side of the compound. Her heart pounded so uncomfortably against her chest that she thought she might pass out. It was her fault he was in pain. Her fault, her fucking fault…

Her nails dug into the exposed skin on her arms. Maybe she didn't deserve to live.

Later, after a warm cup of tea and positive conversation amongst her HYDRA cohorts about the potential success of her evil creation, Liesl slipped into Bucky's holding cell. She brought him cool cloths and numbing medication. His eyes were closed, and some of his hair around his temple was still smoldering slightly.

" _Soldat,"_ she whispered, gently touching his face. "I'm so sorry."

Bucky groaned, rolling his head into her palm.

"How are you feeling? How is your memory?"

"Like hell," he mustered, his voice gravelly.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated.

Bucky's eyes fluttered open. He still looked like the scared soldier they rescued from the snow weeks ago, but his face and body had hardened. His metal arm, once a foreign addition, moved like it was a part of him. Even if they managed to escape, Bucky Barnes would be a different man than he was in the military.

"Where's home for you?" he asked as she began to tend to his wounds.

"Berlin," she answered. "But I doubt there's anything left of it now."

"Where would you go if you got out of here?"

One town immediately came to mind. "I use to travel to a small town with my mother for the holidays… down by the Swiss border. It's called Froelich." Bucky stared at her with blank eyes. She teased, "Your German could use some improvement. It means happy."

He grinned, revealing a deep cut stemming from the corner of his mouth. "Your happy place?"

She smiled in return. "Where's your happy place?"

"It was Brooklyn. You ever been to the US?"

"No."

"I'll take you when all this is over," he said with a smile. "But first, we'll rendezvous in Froelich."

She shook her head. Over, in her understanding, meant death.

"Whatever you say, _soldat."_

She resumed her work in silence, freezing whenever she thought she heard footsteps outside of his cell. After a few moments, Bucky broke the silence.

"Do you think it will work?"

" _Was?"_

"The machine," he said nervously. "Do you think I'll actually lose my memories?"

"It was designed to stimulate brain damage," she explained, "So most likely, yes."

"I would rather be dead," he said bitterly.

"Me too," she agreed.

Bucky held her stare for a beat that felt like hours. When her mind swirled with images of him kissing her, she pulled away.

"Good night, _soldat."_

He did not call after her.


	3. Spring, 1945

**Part 3: Spring 1945**

Weeks melted into months, even though the snow outside did not. Liesl watched time spin around her as her fellow scientists and doctors clamored with excitement over Bucky's development into a super soldier. While his body swelled with muscle, the remaining patients died from illness or lack of care. Liesl saw Bucky getting physically stronger every day, but in his eyes, she saw horror and pain.

Most evenings when she came to visit, Bucky was dazed and lethargic. He couldn't always respond to her, let alone interact. His sudden decrease in control worried her, but she wasn't sure what to do. As she saw it, there were two options: kill him (but risk her own life in the process) or escape with him (but risk freezing to death in Siberia). Neither option was ideal.

She wanted to be brave, for her gut to tell her the answer, but her primal need to stay alive spoke louder than her knowledge of right and wrong.

Until one night when Bucky fought back.

Liesl was at her desk working quietly when she heard Bucky's roars. The sounds of his struggle were background noise in the chaos of the HYDRA facility, so at first, she didn't think much of it. She heard the scientists struggle to sedate him, then throw his body onto a stretcher. She made a note to bring him muscle relaxants later.

"Liesl!" Bucky's voice was unmistakable. "Liesl, please!"

The hair on her arms stood as her throat tightened with nerves. Heavy footsteps accompanied his yelling, and a second later, Emil had grabbed Liesl by the arm and was dragging her into the operating room.

"Why is he addressing you this way?" Emil demanded.

"I don't know," she lied weakly.

Emil did not respond, but his stony face told her he was furious. When they entered the room, Emil tossed her like a ragdoll towards Bucky, who was tied up so tightly against the bed that his limbs were turning red. Liesl tumbled over her feet, barely steadying herself with a grip on Bucky's leg.

"The patient has been asking for you," Zola's voice haunted her ears. "Please, administer this at once."

When she stood, Zola handed her a thick syringe with a yellowish liquid inside.

Liesl tentatively took the syringe, her hand shaking. She asked, inspecting the device, "How much?"

"The entire dosage, _Frauline_ ," Zola said gently, though the fire burning in his eyes told her he felt otherwise.

His use of the word miss, also, made her skin burn—she was a qualified scientist just like the rest of men. Still, she held her tongue.

"What is it?" she asked.

"None of your business," Zola bristled, though he still smiled eerily.

"As a scientist, I cannot give our patient anything that may harm him."

The room burst in stifled laughter. Liesl felt her face grow hot with embarrassment.

"Are you saying you do not want to help HYDRA?" Zola asked, annoyed.

"No, not that, I just… it's irresponsible of us to do this if we don't know—"

"It's called experimentation," another scientist cut her off. "It's your job. The medicine should calm him."

"Or torture him," she countered.

"You know the goal of this experiment, _Frauline._ Now be a good girl and do as you're told!" Zola shoved her towards Bucky, whose eyes were wide with protest and fear.

The room was so quiet Liesl could have heard a pin drop. Her normally quick brain was silent with nervous humming. She yearned to make a decision—rebel or comply—but she was frozen with fear. Bucky stared at her with equal concern; she gently grabbed his metal hand, intertwining their fingers. He squeezed her hand so fiercely she thought it might shatter.

"Now, Liesl," her father boomed.

The room felt like it was closing in on her. She lifted the syringe as if to inject him when she thought—if she missed, he might die. Maybe she'll miss. And if she kills him, they kill her. That'll be that.

Liesl took a deep breath. She tried to make it look as if she was considering the best injection site (given that his left arm was impenetrable), but her hesitation spoke loudest of all—the others knew that she wasn't loyal to HYDRA, that she cared for Bucky Barnes.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed to Bucky. Then, acting if she was closely inspecting his neck, she bent over and kissed his bare neck. Bucky didn't move or make noises in reply.

She raised the syringe purposefully, and without thinking, jabbed it into Bucky's neck. He screamed, pained, horrible screams, as Liesl quickly injected the liquid and removed the needle. His neck bled from the injection site as Bucky thrashed in pain beneath the restraints. She couldn't move or take her eyes off of him as he wailed, agonized; her hands shook as it settled into her brain that she had done this to him—had caused this horrible pain. Two scientists grabbed her by the arms and led her out of the room. Before she could get her bearings, one of them struck her so hard her vision went black.

* * *

When Liesl woke, she was in a bare, dark room save for a thin mattress on the floor. Her eyes couldn't adjust without any light, so she closed them. She felt her way around the room slowly until she felt a door handle and pulled with all her might. The locked door didn't budge beneath her grip, so she pounded on it with her fist until her hand ached.

"Hello?" she yelled. _"Vater?"_

Nothing.

After what felt like a few hours, Liesl rested on her new bed. She wondered how Bucky was doing—if he was still alive. She thought that she had injected him harshly enough that something in his neck should have burst and he would have bled out. If he was gone, then he was at peace—she'd done her job as a scientist to preserve his quality of life… even if it meant he didn't have one anymore.

Her heart was a torrent of emotions—relief that Bucky should no longer be suffering, fear as to what came next for her, and regret that she hadn't done more for him sooner. She was surprised by her sudden ache of longing—considering the circumstances of how they met, a crush seemed completely inappropriate. And yet, when she remembered his bright eyes and kind smile, her stomach swooped uncomfortably.

But even if they did escape, could they feasibly live together? Grow together? Love together? She needed to get her head on straight. But on the other hand, chances were that her heartbeats were limited. So it didn't hurt to indulge in fantasies.

Time passed, though at what rate, she was unsure. Occasionally, her door would open to reveal hastily sliced bread and a cool cup of tea. She ate slowly, hating every bite, but the idea of starving herself sounded too gruesome to bear.

One day, her door opened to reveal her father and a lamp big enough to illuminate his face. Her eyes took a few moments to adjust, but they relished the light.

"I need you to know," he said, closing the door behind him. "That you put yourself in here."

Liesl was unwilling to argue. She was tired and achy and cranky; if they were going to kill her, she just wanted them to do it already.

"What time is it?" she asked instead.

He ignored her. "What have you gained by falling in love with an invalid?"

Her heart jolted at his reference to love, but she could only think of one person. "Is that how you think of Mother? An invalid?"

His face softened. "No," he said after a beat. "I don't."

They sat in silence for a moment, observing each other. The lamp flickered, splotching light onto her father's face.

"I remember the first time I met your mother," Emil said, "She was my doctor's daughter. She used to file papers in his office and answer calls. When she handed me my bill, I was so startled by her beauty that I couldn't even stammer a thank you. She was stunning, your mother."

"And a Jew," Liesl added acidly.

"I knew that, and I loved her anyway."

"How noble of you."

"Annelise!" Emil snapped so viciously her body shook with fear. "Enough. I am trying to help to you."

"How?" she snapped.

"To make a choice," he explained. He placed the lamp on the ground at his feet and pulled a small gun from his pocket. She stopped breathing. "HYDRA is unwilling to forgive you. You have let us down time and time again."

She didn't respond, her eyes intensely watching her father's fingers on the gun.

"The only reason they haven't killed you yet is for me," he said. "I cannot let them. You remind me too much of your mother. She didn't have a chance. But you…"

Emil offered her the gun. She tentatively took it, her fingers shaking.

"Take the coats in the hall," he said softly. "Barnes is in his cell. And run."

"He's alive?" she said breathlessly. When her father nodded, she ran her finger down the barrel of the gun. "I cannot kill anyone."

"Maybe not," he said. "But he can."

Liesl considered his offer. Either way, she would most likely be dead, so she may as well be free.

* * *

Emil left the door open behind him. After a few moments—enough for him to distance himself—Liesl flew out of her prison and down the familiar halls. She grabbed two heavy coats and a knife before running into Bucky's cell. He was asleep, but woke suddenly when he heard Liesl opening the door.

When he saw her arms were full, he asked, "What are you…? I thought you were dead."

"I could say the same," she said quickly. She dropped the coats at her feet and quickly sawed through the restraints keeping him on his bed. When the last one snapped, she gave him a coat and the gun. "Follow me."

Bucky didn't need telling twice. He stumbled for the first few steps, leaning on her to stabilize his pace. Liesl led the way through the twisted labyrinth of HYDRA. The sensation of his warm skin against hers made her brain dizzy.

Liesl saw her father standing at the exit door, his hands on the passcode. When he entered it, the door swung open, revealing the bitter Siberian spring.

"Run," he said again. "And don't look back."

Liesl nodded, and Emil smiled. It was, to her knowledge, the most friendly exchange they may have ever had.

Once they stepped into the wind, Liesl clutched her coat around her. Bucky stuck the gun in his pocket and said, "Let's go."

They moved as quickly as they could, though the wind worked against them. Liesl swore she could hear shouting behind them, but Bucky pulled them along farther and farther until she couldn't feel her face or hands. The sounds of something zipping by them—like a fly—unnerved her, but she trusted Bucky to lead the way. Occasionally, he returned fire. She knew they were in danger, that they would most likely die, but she felt as safe as ever with him.

When they were both panting, their legs aching, Bucky pulled Liesl into the snow next to him. Too cold to say anything, she leaned into his embrace, and he held her gently.

"We'll never make it," he said sadly, his breath warm against her ear.

Liesl knew this was an objective truth, especially now that the sounds of footsteps and bullets grew closer. "I know."

He pulled the gun out of his pocket and said, "I can do it. Quick, painless…"

Liesl shook her head. "Bucky…"

"It's either our gun or theirs," he explained logically, "We have no food, no water, it's freezing out here…"

Liesl knew he was right. She took a deep breath that burned her lungs. Even though her hands were freezing, she cupped his face and brought their lips together, still warm despite the raging storm around them. Part of her expected Bucky to pull away, to insist on ending it, but he surprised her by reciprocating. They kissed for a few moments, enough for her ears to ring so loudly she thought it might shake the ground.

When they parted, she told him, "Okay, _Soldat_."

Bucky cocked the gun and then pressed the barrel to her temple. She stared into his sad blue eyes as he said, "I'll see you there, Liesl."

"In our happy place," she agreed.

When she closed her eyes, her ears rang loudly. After a beat, she felt a sharp pain pierce her shoulder. She collapsed into the snow, unable to move her right arm. The sensation literally stunned her, making her immobile.

"They found us!" Bucky hissed. He tried unsuccessfully to rouse her by shaking her, though she could feel the blood seeping from her wound. "Liesl, Liesl… Can you hear me?"

She heard a second shot and the sound of Bucky's body hitting the snow. She willed herself to move, but she was frozen to her spot.

* * *

Liesl's vision was blurred when she opened her eyes. She tried first to move her arms, but quickly felt they were restrained in addition to her legs. She opened her mouth to scream, but she had gauze pressing against her tongue. Her eyes darted around her, trying to establish where she was, when she saw her father's crumpled body laying in a corner, blood spilling from his head.

She tried to scream again—still unsuccessfully. Zola entered at the sounds of her thrashing, a slick smile on his face.

" _Frauline,"_ he cooed. "How good to see you."

He pulled a lever, charging the contraption she was trapped in. Just like that, she knew it was her memory eraser.

"There are consequences for your actions," he said. "Your father was a good man. He didn't need to die."

She wailed beneath the machine, but the straps hurt her more than she hurt it.

"Barnes is alive as well," Zola continued. "We've noticed a connection between you two. You'll make an excellent team."

Zola lowered the crown around her head. Liesl was panting and panicking so much she thought she might pass out.

"This is goodbye, Liesl," he taunted. "I can't say I'll miss you."

When he pulled the lever, Liesl felt a sharp jolt of electricity shoot through her body. She blinked, and everything went black.


	4. Summer, 2016

**Part 4: Summer 2016**

Liesl awoke suddenly.

Her hazy vision danced around her, refusing to focus on any one spot. She took a deep breath, filling with lungs with precious air, trying not to scream as it burned painfully.

Her view was blocked by thick, yellowed glass. Around her, the air was frigid and uncomfortable; she thought she felt herself thawing—water dripping off of her fingertips. She could see nothing else but this thin prison.

Liesl instinctively shrugged her shoulders and wiggled her toes. As the sensation of feeling flowed back into her body, she crumpled her hand into a fist and slammed it into the glass. Pain radiated against the impact, but she did it again, and again, intensely until the glass shattered like rain and the door holding her hostage opened.

She stumbled out of her makeshift prison, her eyes slowly adjusting to see a dark room with several other tubes holding bodies. She vaguely recognized some faces behind the smoky glass around her. As she approached the closest person, curious if they were awake as well, she heard a door crash open.

Liesl quickly ducked into a narrow hallway behind her and held her breath. She watched as a white man gripping a gun in his right hand sauntered into the room, his eyes darting for onlookers. When he failed to see Liesl, he pressed the gun against a glass tube and fired. One. After. Another.

Her heart pounded so heavily in her chest she thought she might pass out—or that the ringing in her ears would give her away. Did he intend to kill her as well? When the man approached her prison and noticed the shattered glass, his eyes narrowed. He quickly glanced around him once more, but saw no one. He clicked his tongue and turned his back, ready to leave, when Liesl pounced.

She felt like an animal—her moves were instinctual. She jumped onto his back and wrapped her arms so tightly around his neck that he flailed against her grip. He tried to kick out from beneath her, but she was stronger—how, she wasn't sure—so she tightened her arm against his neck.

"HYDRA… survives," he sputtered in German.

Liesl released the man and threw his body to the ground. As the man gasped for air, she towered over him. In any other situation, Liesl knew she should have been panicking and terrified, but she felt oddly in control.

"What did you say?" she snapped.

He clutched at his already bruising throat, still gasping hoarsely. Liesl's patience was thin; she grabbed him by the throat yet again and lifted him in the air above her.

"I will not repeat myself," she hissed.

"You are not… the only… one."

Liesl released him again, and he fell to the floor with a thud. She was going to walk away, leave him, when she heard the door slam open and several pairs of feet approach quickly.

"Please," the man said.

She wasn't certain what he was begging for, but her body was already moving towards his. Liesl picked him up by his limp arm. Her body seemed to know what to do—she forced him on his knees in front of her and grabbed both sides of his head. She was going to twist when she heard a familiar voice yell in English.

"Don't!"

She looked up and saw three men staring back at her. One in a red metal suit, one in an American banner, and the last, the one who spoke, in black. Her eyes drifted to his metal arm and the familiar red star on his bicep. Her heart leapt at the symbol, and a lump of anxiety hardened in her throat, but why, she couldn't say.

" _Genug, Soldat,"_ the man in black said.

"We need him alive," the American man clarified.

"Liesl," the man in black pleaded, _"Bitte."_

It was only then that she noticed her hands were shaking so violently that her prisoner yelped in pain. She released him, and he fell to the floor face first with a grunt.

* * *

The men quickly moved to apprehend the man and led him onto a small plane parked near the facility. She vaguely remembered it belonging to HYDRA, but the wheels in her brain were spinning so slowly she could barely think to speak. She followed the others into the plane, away from her prisoner, and sat in silence for the duration of the ride. The men introduced themselves as Tony, Steve, and Bucky, respectively. Liesl carefully watched Bucky, as he seemed to eagerly wait for any flicker of memory about him. But her mind was, essentially, empty.

When she didn't reply, the others took to speaking about her as if she couldn't understand.

"We were only authorized to bring back Zemo," Tony said bitterly, "I didn't think this was a rescue mission."

"We got lucky," Steve said confidently. "The others… not so much."

"Her mind may still be wired for HYDRA. I'm not sure bringing her back to the compound is the best move," Tony argued.

"Don't discuss anything classified," Steve countered.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Got that much, thanks."

Liesl wasn't sure what provoked her, but she said in heavily accented English, "He killed them."

The three men turned to her. "Come again?" Tony said.

"Sorry," she said, her cheeks red. Then, to Bucky, she said in German, "They were sleeping, and that man killed them."

Bucky smiled sympathetically at her. "I know," he replied in German. "He will be punished."

She nodded, but that didn't stop the worry from pulsing through her body. What would happen to her once they reached the "compound"? Was it a prison? Part of her wished she had never woke up.

"Are you worried?" Bucky asked.

Liesl chewed her lip while she considered her answer. "Not for him," she finally said.

* * *

After another hour of silence and low chatter, Liesl drifted to sleep. She woke briefly when the plane touched down and they transferred the prisoner to a black man with a thick Wakandan accent, but quickly fell back asleep. Each time she woke, she challenged herself to remember—the last moment, the last conversation… Everything but the HYDRA facility was blurry.

She stirred when the plane landed with a final thump. Panic set in.

"Where am I?" she asked in English.

"Safe," Steve said.

She looked to Bucky for confirmation.

" _Sichen,"_ he agreed.

When she looked to Tony, though, he was already walking away.

* * *

Liesl was quickly getting used to being spoken over and for.

"I thought you didn't have any room for extra passengers," a red-haired woman called Natasha commented once she took notice of Liesl, who Bucky left sitting on a couch in a massive common area. He promised to be right back, but she longed for his presence the second he left.

"Yeah, well, plans change," Tony said from the bar as he poured himself a drink. "We thought the Accords would work, and they didn't. We thought we were capturing a terrorist, and we found Barnes's booty call."

"Tony," Steve said sharply. "It's not like that."

Tony waved his hand in dismissal. "The first I heard of her existing was on the plane over to Siberia, and now she's real. Here. In my house. How'd he know she'd be there?"

"There were other soldiers," Steve explained, "Liesl is… was… one of them. She was with Bucky from the beginning."

"Super soldiers in love," Tony quipped.

"I owe her my life," Bucky said. He lumbered into the room and handed Liesl a blanket that she wrapped around her shoulders. The scent—his scent—was comforting and familiar.

"A HYDRA agent," Tony said skeptically.

"Former," Bucky corrected.

"If only she could talk, then she could tell us!" Tony said mockingly.

"She can't speak?" Natasha raised her eyebrow.

"My English isn't great," Liesl said. The room went so quiet she thought she might have lost her hearing. "I don't remember much."

"Aha," Natasha said with a small smile. "She does speak."

" _Ich schätze den herablassenden Ton nicht."_

Bucky snorted, which made Liesl smile.

"What did she say?" Tony asked.

"That she doesn't like your tone," a woman with a Russian accent as she entered the room.

"Oh good, Wanda, you're here," Tony snapped. "When did my house turn into a hotel?"

"Sometime between Ultron and the Accords," a man who appeared almost literally out of thin air said. His skin was dark red and he had a golden gem in his forehead.

"What's your problem, Tony?" Natasha asked.

"Since you asked," Tony approached the group with a drink in his hand. "I think Cap's been using up his favors a lot recently. First, we take in Manchurian Candidate over there. Someone tries to frame him for the murder of the King of Wakanda and a bunch of other important people, yadda, yadda, yadda… We find out Barnes can still lose his mind if someone says a few words to him. We risk life and law to make sure he's safe. And now we have her, this girl!" To Liesl, he said, "And don't take this the wrong way, I'm sure you're a really nice lady, but we're going out a long limb here trusting the two of you about her. We find her in a HYDRA facility, still dolled up in HYDRA clothes, and we're supposed to trust her just like that? How do we know she's still not a spy? Or completely brainwashed? If the UN finds out we have her…"

"We don't answer to them anymore," Steve said simply. "We're not talking about putting her out on missions."

"Because then what? She leads HYDRA right to us?" Tony asked.

"Or she leads us to HYDRA," Natasha countered.

"You're talking using her as an intelligence?" Wanda said.

"If she's loyal to us, we could use the information," Natasha shrugged. "Just a thought."

"How do we know if she's loyal? Girl can barely speak English," Tony said.

"Wanda could—" Natasha began, but Bucky cut her off.

"Or we let Liesl recover and decide what she wants to do with her life," he snapped. "That's a choice I wish I had… before Zemo dragged me back into all this."

"A life eating plums in small-town Germany would have certainly been worthwhile," Tony said bitingly.

"It was my happy place," Bucky said softly. "Froelich."

The room went quiet with awkwardness. Bucky's use of the word Froelich piqued her interest, though, causing Liesl to sit up straighter. The town was familiar… but why, and how? She stared at Bucky for answers, whose mouth was twisted with frustration.

"Fine," Tony relented. He downed the rest of his drink and said, "But put her in a safe room for tonight. I don't want her wandering the tower."

* * *

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Liesl spoke slow and careful English with the others, trying hard to get her bearings for what happened. After a filling meal, Vision led her to her room a few floors below. When Tony said safe room, Liesl clearly saw he meant prison cell—there were locks on all the doors, no sharp objects for escaping, and only books for company. She thumbed through the selection, pulling out a few on post-World War history with no intention of reading. She wasn't sure her mind would focus long enough for that luxury.

Liesl closed her eyes and tried desperately to dig into her memory. She saw flashes of the HYDRA facility—in different lighting, from a different time—but otherwise her brain felt like mush. She wished she knew what made her a natural enemy of the Avengers, and a hero to Bucky, who smiled at her like he loved her. Did he? Why? How?

Her mind ran rampant with questions as she mindlessly flipped through pages of a book on the 1950s—questions she was certain she wouldn't know the answers to for a while.


	5. Summer, 2016, Ctd

**Part 5**

When the sun broke over the horizon (and peeked in through her drawn shades), Liesl woke. She was pleasantly surprised to find that her door was cracked open—meaning someone didn't want her locked in—and to find a German newspaper outside her door. She changed into a pair of sweatpants and an old Stark Industries t-shirt she found in a dresser drawer and wandered upstairs towards the common area, carefully trying to memorize the layout of the tower.

Coffee was initially on her mind—did they still make coffee in 2016?—but her interest waned when she saw Natasha reading at the dinner table. Her hair was pulled back tightly into a bun, and she wore tight compression pants and a dirty t-shirt.

" _Guten Morgen,"_ Natasha said, not looking up from her reading. "You're up early. How'd you sleep?"

"Okay," Liesl said carefully. Her eyes scanned the contents of the pages, and she saw her name printed on a large manila folder: ANNELISE WEBER. "A little… ah… restless."

Natasha glanced up long enough to see Liesl's eyes resting on her file. She pushed the documents towards the girl. "I pulled them out for you last night. I have to warn you though," she said, "It's weird to read about yourself."

Liesl smirked uncomfortably, though she was anxious to thumb through her past life. When she opened the folder, she saw an old file with hastily scrawled handwriting and a decaying photo of herself. Or: what was herself. She no longer needed the thick glasses, and her curly hair was tamed into something a little straighter. Her right shoulder was metal, and she felt stronger than she looked in the photo. 1940s Liesl didn't smile back at her; she rubbed her thumb against the old ink, her heart pounding uncomfortably.

The main file held all of her information: birth date, hair color, eye color, height, weight, known aliases, associations… When she flipped the page, the HYDRA symbol stared menacingly back at her, accompanied by notes about her role in the Siberian facility as a scientist. She had hoped the wheels in her brain would start turning, that she could remember something, but all of the details—about her father, the brainwashing contraption she built, the Winter Soldier project—seemed like planted memories.

As she delved into the details, sipping on a coffee that Natasha kindly brought her, the combination of her sudden consciousness and her lack of memory was making her feel very sick. There were fewer details about her life post-1945, with some sources stating that she worked alongside the infamous Winter Soldier, but nothing to confirm. That is, until the Avengers found her in the defunct Siberian HYDRA facility.

"You're going to have to ask Barnes about that," Natasha said, tapping the page with a photo of Bucky in a mask, holding a gun. "You two were elusive even to the best spies SHIELD had."

Liesl placed her file down. "I don't remember any of this. Maybe some… snippets… but…"

The feeling of not knowing overwhelmed her. She could feel her throat tightening and her ears ringing when Bucky said, "I know what that's like."

Natasha and Liesl both saw Bucky wearing sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a ball cap hiding his long hair. Butterflies fluttered uncomfortably in her chest, which only frustrated her further. She hated that her body could react, but not her mind.

"Not knowing, I mean," Bucky clarified.

Liesl smiled awkwardly at him. "I see."

Bucky shifted awkwardly on his heels before strolling into the kitchen. Natasha took advantage of her brief distraction and swapped the files. This time, JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES stared up at her.

" _Werde ich Eier machen?"_ Bucky called from the kitchen.

" _Ja,"_ Natasha answered. "Sounds good."

Liesl opened the first page of Bucky's file. Her eyes were immediately drawn to a fading photo of Bucky in his army uniform. Her heart jumped into her throat; she immediately recognized his face—specifically, that photo.

"I knew him," she aloud, mostly to herself.

Natasha smirked. "I'd say so."

Liesl didn't want to let go to this sensation. She pulled the photo out from underneath the paperclip securing it in place and brought it closer to her face, inspecting it. She had an odd sensation of déjà vu taunting her.

"He was the Winter Soldier?" Liesl asked. Natasha nodded, flipping a page in another file. "But he was someone else. He was… my _Soldat."_

Bucky poked his head around the corner of the kitchen. "Hmm?"

His quick response startled her. "Oh, uh, nothing. Talking to myself."

Then he nodded and disappeared back into the kitchen.

* * *

Over the next few days, Liesl learned the rhythm of Stark Tower. Natasha, herself, and Bucky were members of the Early Risers Club, often congregating at the table for coffee, breakfast, and quiet reading. Steve liked to be up early too, but he preferred not to be disturbed while he worked out (and then came into the living room a sweaty mess before he chugged three bottles of Gatorade). Tony stirred late and went to bed even later, popping in and out of the common room as needed; he seemed to keep a close eye on Liesl, as if she might attack at any given moment. Wanda and Vision, too, kept to themselves. During the day, they'd train with Natasha and Steve, but for the most part, everyone had their separate lives—they just lived them together.

While others worked out or went on missions, Liesl spent the better parts of her days reading—any kind of book really—to catch up on history and culture. Her favorite spot was in the loft above the common area. She liked to nestle into a big, squishy arm chair with the soft, fleece blanket Bucky had given her that first night and a book facing a glass wall of windows. She often told time by the sun's position in the sky—or by the grumbling of her stomach.

Because she could not physically digest books, Bucky brought her meals when he wasn't away from the tower. His face would sport extra cuts, or his hands would be red, but he never complained nor answered questions about his work. Liesl wondered if this was a direct order from Tony; or if he was doing it to keep her safe and happy.

Still, they'd eat together in near silence, watching the sun skip across the sky. Their relationship was peaceful and comforting. Liesl tried to ignore the way her heart leapt with joy every time he approached, but part of her wondered if she genuinely couldn't help it—was she programmed to like him?

Either way, all she knew was that the tower was desperately lonely without Bucky by her side.

* * *

Everyone in Stark Tower seemed anxiously certain that time would recover Liesl's memories. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be the case.

"At least your English has gotten better," Steve teased when Liesl admitted that she didn't remember much beyond her last Great Awakening, as Natasha had been calling it.

She shrugged. "I suppose there's that. I wish I could be more of an asset to you, that's all."

"Rehabilitate and release," Vision said. "Isn't that better? You could go home."

"I doubt I'd recognize Berlin," she admitted. "It's been so long."

"I felt the same way about Brooklyn," Steve agreed. "It's really something when you miss 70 years of your life."

"I don't know where I'd begin or what I'd do. I've never had the ability to choose before," Liesl said.

"Well, you're welcome to stay as long as you want," Wanda said soothingly, sensing Liesl's oncoming panic attack.

"As long as you're not a threat," Tony added, his voice echoing from the kitchen.

The room collectively rolled their eyes. Liesl stifled a giggle beneath her palm.

"I wish there was a way to shut him up," Bucky said. "Prove that Liesl's not a threat."

"Well…" Wanda began. When the others turned to her, they seemed to light up in agreement—with what, Liesl wasn't sure.

"Yes?" she prompted.

"Wanda has the power to look into others' minds," Natasha explained. "If you'd let her, she could see you—the real you."

"All of you," Steve said warningly.

"Maybe a few memories, too?" Wanda shrugged. "I'm interested, yes. How does it work?"

"All I need to do is touch you," Wanda wiggled her fingers. "But it is rather… intense…"

Liesl was so desperate for answers in her blank, boring life that she didn't consider the full impact of the word intense.

"Let's do it."

* * *

Liesl invited Natasha, Steve, and Bucky to observe her session with Wanda—more for the company than anything, as the moments to Wanda's touch grew closer, she became more nervous. Steve and Bucky opted out of watching; Natasha, though, sat next to her, quietly observing as Wanda wrung her hands together.

"I'll know how you are in a second," Wanda said. "But if you'd like, I can try to dig deeper…"

"Yes," Liesl nodded. "Please."

Wanda nodded. "Okay, Liesl… take a deep breath…"

Liesl obeyed. She felt Wanda's cold hand on her clothed arm for a second before the girl pulled away. The sensation was quick like a spark; Liesl would have never known what Wanda was doing if she didn't say anything.

"Well?" Natasha prompted.

Wanda smiled kindly. "She is of no threat to us. I see mostly confusion, a desire to find your place."

"No kidding," Liesl quipped.

"Even when you were with HYDRA, you didn't want to be," Wanda continued. "Your past has a lot of pain."

"I imagine most of ours do," she said. Natasha watched her with a careful eye as she spoke. "I did my best. I think."

"Not always," Wanda conceded.

Liesl's positive mood dampened almost instantly. The feeling of disappointment was, unfortunately, familiar.

Wanda rubbed her fingers together, and said, "Close your eyes."

Liesl did. She felt Wanda's cool touch, and then her mind's eye blurred…

Liesl landed in a small town. She raised her arm to touch her face, and found her old pair of glasses and thick, tangled hair covered by a wide-brimmed hat. The sun was shining warmly, but she was comfortable in a cotton dress. The world around her seemed to be moving—it wasn't entirely stable. And yet, it felt so real.

She took a few steps forward as the town settled into view. She knew this place. But where was it? A passerby on a bike greeted her warmly in German, and another in French; Froelich. She had vacationed here when she was a child.

She was warmed by the friendly faces surrounding her. She continued to take steps as the haze settled into rustic homes and gardens. Ahead of her, she saw a man in an American military uniform holding a dozen tulips.

" _Soldat,"_ she said with a hitch in her voice. Her heart fluttered rhythmically in her chest; she couldn't help but smile. "You made it."

Bucky, with his hair slicked back as it was when they met in 1944, face healthy and smiling, handed her the flowers.

"Of course," he said coolly. "We agreed to meet here."

Liesl didn't remember that detail. But she still grinned and smelled the flowers. They were sweet and beautiful.

"Thank you," she said warmly.

Bucky bent forward and kissed her, his lips warm. Liesl's heart quickened.

When they parted, she watched the flowers in her hand melt into acid. She screamed at her skin sizzled, though she felt no pain, leaving only bones.

"HYDRA," Bucky sneered. He touched her hands, and her bones disintegrated into dust. "You're no hero."

Bile climbed up her throat. "Wait!" she yelled as Bucky turned away. "I didn't… I'm not…"

She blinked, and her father and Zola were standing in front of her. Zola offered her a gun.

"Do it," he egged menacingly. "Pull the trigger."

"Now, Annelise!" her father barked.

Liesl raised her trembling her, pressing the barrel of the gun against her temple.

"I deserve it," she said, then closed her eyes.

The sound of the shot rang out, but instead of blackness, she opened her eyes to see Wanda and Natasha standing above her. Natasha wiped the wetness off of her cheeks with her hand. Liesl took a few deep breaths, trying to steady her suddenly rapid breathing. Intellectually, she knew what she just saw wasn't real, but then again…

"You are safe now," Wanda said soothingly. "We will keep you safe."


	6. Late Summer, 2016

**Part 6**

Safe was Liesl's new mantra. She was safe. She was safe. She was safe.

After her session with Wanda, and even though she insisted she would be alright, Liesl spent the next few days feeling overwhelmingly anxious and dazed. She dreamed about what she saw at Wanda's touch, and soon snippets of her past life followed. Most of the details were inconsequential, such as a stress dream she had about losing her notebook, but others pointed to information about HYDRA capabilities that SHIELD may not know. Liesl longed to verbalize this concern, but with no concrete details, it wasn't worth mentioning.

The others noticed this shift in her personality. Though she was only yet blossoming into an outgoing woman, Liesl retreated back into her quiet, comfortable shell. She spent more time in her new room—complete with huge windows overlooking the city, a tall bookshelf stacked with history books in both English and German, and blank notebooks with a variety of colorful pens. Steve had suggested she use the journal to jot down her memories; soon, her pages were sprawled with sketches and haphazard thoughts. Unfortunately, none of it made sense to her fragmented mind.

She was rereading a passage she scribbled about poisons she had been developing in Siberia, wrapped tightly in Bucky's blanket, when she heard a knock at her door.

"It's open," she said, stuffing the book under her legs.

Bucky entered a moment later. His hair was swept up in a bun and he was wearing an NYU sweater and a concerned stare.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Haven't seen you upstairs in a bit."

"Okay," she repeated with a fake smile. "Just thinking a lot."

"Is there anything I can get you? Or help you with?"

"No, thank you," she replied. The static concern on Bucky's face didn't budge. She was about to ask him for privacy when she suddenly thought, "How did I save you?"

"Hmm?" he closed the door behind him.

"You said I saved your life," she said. The nerves in her throat made her voice shake. "How?"

"You were kind to me when no one else was," Bucky said. "You took care of me."

"That was it?" she said, deflated. She had imagined her past self standing up to HYDRA more dramatically, but it seemed her defining characteristic then and now was fear.

"We tried to escape together," Bucky said, sitting on the edge of her bed. "I think we did. But we were caught. I don't remember much after that."

"Just us?"

"Yes."

She asked the question on the tip of her tongue—one she'd been wondering since her first day in the tower.

"Did we love each other?"

Liesl saw Bucky's lip quiver as he considered the answer to this question. He hesitated before saying, "I don't know about love. When I think about it, I don't know if we knew each other that well. But we cared for each other very deeply."

Liesl wasn't sure what prompted her to say so, but the words came out of her faster than she could stop them. "I think I loved you."

Bucky smirked. After a beat, during which Liesl thought she heart might explode, he asked, "Can I show you something?"

* * *

Bucky led Liesl to his room a floor below hers. The walls were painted a dark red with black sheets. He didn't have many personal items strewn about, except for some clothes here and there.

Bucky reached for a book stuffed in the back of the top drawer of his dresser. He motioned for her to sit on an ottoman at the foot of his bed, so she did. He thumbed through a few pages before sitting next to her.

"This is before I remembered much, including you," he said, handing her the book.

On a page surrounded by scribbles in Russian, German, and English, Liesl saw a quick sketch of her old self—glasses, thick hair, straight lips.

"I dreamed about you a lot," Bucky said. He flipped forward a few pages, and there she was again, drawn from the side. The name Annelise was underlined beneath it with a question mark. "After I woke up… I went to Froelich to settle down. I didn't know why at the time; I just did. But I think I was waiting for you, even after all those years."

Liesl flipped through a few more pages. Her name became less and less common, but she was still present among his thoughts. On one page, she found a stunning sketch of her without glasses, looking like a doll.

"You're a good artist," was the only thing she could think to say.

"Thanks," Bucky said, reaching for the book.

His metal fingers grazed her skin, and the sensation stoked her memory. She gently took his metal hand, holding it between her palms. He flexed his fingers, and she wrapped hers around his until they intertwined. She wasn't sure why, but the sensation was familiar. Liesl felt closer to him in that moment—safer with him than anyone else.

It was only then that she realized what she was doing—holding his hand. She hastily let go of his hand like she had been shocked back into reality.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I wasn't thinking."

Bucky said, "It's okay." But his eyes told her that he wished she didn't let go.

* * *

Liesl was quickly overwhelmed by her feelings for Bucky. She had an immensely hard time sorting through the affection, admiration, need, and dependency that tangled together to strangle her heart.

With his coaxing, she started to join the others back in the common area. She'd even told him about parts of her vision and resurfacing memories, including the poison that melted her hands. On the surface, Bucky didn't look too concerned, but she knew when Steve came to talk to her about it that she probably stumbled onto something bigger.

Bucky, Steve, Tony, and Natasha disappeared for a few days after she confirmed her memories. When they came home, Tony pointed a square finger at her.

"You!" he snapped. "You are onto something!"

Liesl raised her eyebrow, frozen with fear. "I… what?"

Tony smirked, noticing how he had riled her up. "You did good, kid. We may have found something in Germany."

She still wasn't sure whether to be relieved or frightened. "Okay…"

"We think you might be able to help," Steve said tentatively as Bucky collapsed into the chair next to her, his face covered in old sweat and dirt. "But only if you want."

"How?"

"We found a HYDRA facility that was off of our radar," Bucky explained. "We were thinking if we brought you, you might be able to lead us around."

"I never went to a German facility," she said. "Maybe once, but that was it."

Bucky shot the others an "I told you so" kind of look. But it was clear that the others were unwilling to give up.

"We'd teach you—or reteach you, more like—defensive skills," Natasha said. "We would be by your side the whole time. If something happens… we'll take care of it. If it turns out to be a bust…"

"Then you got a lovely plane ride to the mother land," Tony added.

Liesl instinctively looked to Bucky—as if he might provide her with the right response. After consuming dozens of books and acclimating to this new society as best as she could without wandering too far from the Tower, she was starting to wonder what use she had here. Perhaps she could help. And Tony was right, if nothing comes to her, then it's not a huge loss.

Bucky's face, though, was a flat line of frustration. Liesl knew that he wanted to keep her safe—to give her the chance at a normal life—but she was eager to help in any way she could. Even if she couldn't verbalize directions, maybe her subconscious could lead the way.

"Well?" Natasha prompted.

"Okay," Liesl said, her skin prickling with excitement. "Let's give this a shot."

* * *

Even in her past life, Liesl was not very physically fit. So she was surprised when her body—her new, Winter Soldier body—remembered most of the fight patterns that Steve and Natasha were teaching her. Though they insisted on teaching purely defensive skills, Liesl's quick hands grabbed weapons and aimed precisely. Both Natasha and Steve were impressed with her quick learning, but Bucky's persistent frown told her that he was worried about her. She tried to cheer him up by spending more time with him, but it was clear he didn't want her to go.

"I'll be okay, _Soldat,_ " Liesl told Bucky once their plane landed outside of the HYDRA facility. The others had gone ahead to scope the scene, leaving the two together.

Bucky forced a smile at her, but his nerves showed through his grin. "I wish you didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to."

Bucky didn't reply. Instead, he grabbed a large gun from the wall above their seats and cocked it.

"I feel safer with you here," Liesl said honestly.

Bucky grimaced, though. "I'm not sure you should."

After a beat, during which Liesl's mind ran rampant as to why Bucky would be putting her off, Steve called for the soldiers. Liesl double checked her protective gear and then stepped out of the plane.

The HYDRA facility was dark, covered in cobwebs, and smelled distinctly of dust and agony. Liesl's heart started hammering as soon she entered the facility—this wasn't hers, she knew, but the familiarity of the machinery made her queasy.

The others fell into step behind Liesl as she wandered around the facility, much like a tourist in New York City does, with her neck craned upwards. The location seemed to be fairly cleared out, save for a few machines, including a newer replica of her mind control device. Each time she entered a new room, she held her breath for fear of seeing someone sitting at a desk, about to bark orders at her.

"Anything?" Steve's voice echoed through the empty hallway that Liesl and Bucky were exploring.

"Not yet," she answered, her voice bouncing off the walls.

"I might have found something over here!" Tony called. "Looks dangerous… my favorite."

The sound of pounding footsteps behind them meant Steve and Natasha were running over to Tony. Liesl looked to Bucky, who shrugged.

Liesl grabbed the dusty brass handle of a door near the end of the hall. Bucky edged the barrel of his gun through as he peered through the sight. When he determined it to be safe, he swung the door open and walked in first.

The room was dark and stale. A few lights buzzed above them, but only enough to see a few feet in front of her. Desks lined the wall with computers from the early 90s perched atop. Liesl ran her fingers over the desks, leaving a line of cleanliness. She fiddled with the drawers, pawing through slick materials in Russian and German. They were mostly information, some scribbled with ideas. Liesl bit her lip as she read about a poison—wondering if it was the same one she had messed with in her time at HYDRA—when the room's door slammed shut.

She yelped involuntarily, dropping the paper to the ground. Bucky calmly approached the door and pulled on the handle.

"It won't budge," he muttered. "Damn building."

Before Liesl could reply, she heard a voice she could never forget.

" _Hallo, Frauline."_

The sound sent shivers up her spine. Bucky spun on his spot, pointing his gun towards the sound, which came from the ceiling.

"So good to see you again," the voice said in honey-like consistency.

Her heart pounded in her chest so hard she thought she might vomit. Bucky stepped slowly over towards her, his gun still aimed high.

"Zola," she said. _"Wo bist du?"_

Zola chuckled. " _Frauline,_ you should address me with the formal _Sie, bitte."_

"You can't still be alive," she said, her voice shaking.

"Alive is a subjective term," he purred.

Then, something hard and heavy flew at Liesl's head. She ducked; at the same time, Bucky wrapped his arm around her shoulder and forced her to the ground.

"I think you'll find your enemies are inside this room," Zola continued. "Or should I say: enemy."

"Show yourself!" Liesl demanded, standing up.

The room went quiet. The remaining lights hummed anxiously, as if they could burst at any moment. Bucky went back to the door, forcibly tugging on it. When that didn't work, he emptied a few bullets around the handle and pulled again.

"Shit!" he swore.

"Bucky…" Liesl's voice trembled. A hard lump of anxiety lodged in her throat; she thought she would be sick.

Bucky dropped his weapon and started kicking at the door frame. She could see the hard wood shake against his impact, but it refused to open.

And then, like a snake's voice slithering in her ear, she heard Zola's voice again, this time speaking in Russian.

"Longing. Rusted. Seventeen."

Liesl instinctively clamped her hands against her ears, trying to block out the noise. Her mind buzzed unpleasantly with disobedience. In the background, she could still hear Bucky trying to break down the door.

"Daybreak. Furnace. Nine."

"Bucky!" she yelped, feeling very much like a child. She was trying desperately to block the sound, but the words crept into her ears.

"I know!" he yelled. Bucky smashed his body weight against the door, ricocheting the door off of its hinges.

"Benign. Homecoming."

The door toppled with a thud. Liesl fell to her knees and curled into a ball. She emitted a high whine in hopes of distracting herself from his words—words she wasn't 100% sure what they did, but she knew she wanted no part of it.

"Come on!" Bucky urged her, his voice echoing from the doorway. "Get up!"

But Liesl couldn't move; she was glued to her spot—shaking, scared, helpless.

"One."

"Liesl!" Bucky yelled. When she didn't move, she felt his body cover hers, his hands pressing against her ears so hard she missed the last word or phrase.

And just like that, Bucky relaxed against her. He stood, looking to the ceiling for instruction. Liesl slowly rolled upwards until she was sitting on her legs, ready to pounce for the door. Bucky's bright eyes had gone pale and glassy.

" _Soldat?"_ she asked, touching his metal hand gently. "Can you hear me?"

Zola's voice demanded, "Kill her."


End file.
